


To Live For

by ferowyn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-09
Updated: 2013-07-09
Packaged: 2017-12-18 05:52:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/876359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ferowyn/pseuds/ferowyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joe, a normal muggle, is trying his best to survive in a Britain ruled by <i>him</i>, the Master of the warlocks. He knows, he must not be caught by them... but what if he finally is?</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Live For

**Author's Note:**

> Well... yes. I was having a writing-attack. Enjoy.

### To Live For

Joe is running as fast as he can, his feet heavy and his lungs burning, but there is no way he can stop now, not with his life in danger like that. Not with the promise he has given to Andy.

Andy.

For a second he stumbles, thinks his heart stops, but he makes himself continue. Keeps running. He can still hear them, hear him, and he knows that he probably will for the rest of his life, that those painful screams, each of them tearing his heart into pieces, will never die down in his memory, but there is no way he can stop, no way he can help him now, not against them, he has to keep going, he has _promised_ \--

He trips, almost falls, but somehow manages to break the fall with his arms. His wrists hurt badly after that, but he does not need them for running and for now he can banish the pain to the back of his consciousness. He dashes around a corner, manages to squeeze into the small gap between two houses – he is skinny enough to do so, _wasted_ enough – and makes for the dark, winding alleys of the industrial area. Andy’s screams are becoming quieter, more distant, and then they stop completely.

For a second Joe freezes and everything in him is screaming to turn around, to make sure that his friend is still alive, despite his better knowledge and he cannot be left behind, alone, and--

He hears the dark, menacing laughter of those who are following him and his body kicks into survival mode again.

It has had to do so too often in the last months and he is losing more strength with each time, but still Joe is amazed by what his body can do when in mortal danger. However, this time he will not be sitting in a dark and dirty hideaway afterwards, the best place they can find, with his friends at his side, relief rushing through their veins and making them laugh. This time he is going to be alone – finally. He had never thought to be the last one, for Andy had always been faster and Zach better at hiding, but… well. Zach had vanished a few weeks ago, disappeared just like that and never coming to one of their venues. They had kept returning there as long as possible, until it had become too dangerous. Then they had had to accept that Zach would never be coming back. They had gotten him.

And now Andy as well.

Joe supresses a sob, knowing that crying would take too much of his strength now. He hears his persecutors come closer, knows that he needs a distraction, now, or they will find him--

The wall of a house next to him is hit by a sickly violet beam and explodes.

Joe is thrown against another house by the blast and his shoulder hurts, burning like fire and maybe it takes him a little too long to gasp for air, maybe breathing is too hard, but there is smoke everywhere, they cannot see him now, and since the smoke has been magically induced it will also cover his trail. This is the best chance he is going to get.

He hears the buzz of curses thrown into the dust, without an aim, and does his best to dodge them, but some are being reflected by mirrors or windows and others are going in a zigzag motion, so he just tries to evade the green ones. He manages to crawl through a small, broken window, down into a partly decayed house and if one of the curses has hit his leg, who cares? He is safe for now.

However, he soon realizes that his shin does not only hurt like hell – he can no longer move his right leg. At all.

Cursing quietly he crawls across that dirty old cellar filled with junk, old newspapers and broken furniture, towards a wall that seems to be stable. He looks around, trying to make out the best spot to hide.

The window he has come in through is small and would not fit a well-nourished grown up, but children or refugees like him would have no problem slipping through. Neither would have the warlocks. Their wands would do the work for them. He also finds a door, but it is barricaded with loads and loads of clutter – for the sole purpose to prevent anyone from coming through it seems.

He deems the window to be the bigger danger and crawls behind a cupboard at the opposite wall, additionally hiding himself underneath some old newspapers.

This is not the safest hideout he has had in the last months, but not the most dangerous either, and most certainly not the coldest. He is thirsty as hell, but getting something to drink will have to wait until tomorrow, along with looking after the cursewound. Joe lies down on the hard but fairly warm wooden floor, trying to adjust his burning leg and pulling another paper across his head before resting the latter on his arms.

Then the tears start coming.

 

He is woken by a slight rustling of the papers. Joe’s eyes snap open while he freezes, trying to be as invisible as possible. He feels a movement at the height of his hip – and then he hears the hiss.

For a second his heart stops beating and then returns to life, racing far too fast, far too loudly.

A snake.

He is lost.

Snakes – snakes are _his_ servants, even more loyal to him than the warlocks. _He_ talks to them, makes them find whoever he is looking for and report to him. Those who are being searched for by snakes – they never survive. Sometimes they tell their master where the person is, sometimes they kill them directly. Bite them with their teeth which are far more poisonous after _he_ has fed them some of his special potions.

Joe hardly dares to breathe, tries to lie as still as possible, hoping – against all odds – that the reptile is not going to realize he is here.

When he feels the faint touch of a split tongue against the bare skin of his lower back his heart stops again and he is feeling sick, so sick, but he does not move. His eyes are still staring straight ahead, almost never blinking, and he tries to focus on the newspaper article just in front of his head, too close to read it properly, in order to make the panic go away, if just a little.

His eyes fall onto the picture of the old _Guardian’s_ cover.

It is _him_.

_He_ is at his favourite pastime, torturing a muggle, and the headline is saying his name.

Joe quickly averts his eyes. This had been in the beginning, when they had just found out about the wizarding world and the cruel dictator. When they had still thought that they could defeat _him_. That the European Union, the USA, someone, _anyone_ would help them. Now all those illusions are gone and the _Guardian_ is no longer printed – or any other muggle newspaper for that matter.

He is torn from his thoughts when the snake slithers underneath his shirt, up towards his head, and he wants to throw up, or to scream, but he is frozen in panic and then he feels the pointed teeth scratch the skin at his neck and he does not know whether to be relieved, for he is going to die now, but at least it will happen through poison. A terrible poison, that is going to ruin his body and send him into agony for days, but it will still be better than _his_ curses. He tries to brace himself, to be ready for the short pain of the bite and the torture that will follow, but it does not happen, why is it not happening? He would wish for it to be over rather sooner than later.

However, suddenly the snake slithers out of the collar of his battered shirt and away from him, towards the door. The door, where a lot of noise is suddenly coming from.

_No_ – they have found him.

Joe tries to jump up and make for the window, to run, but to his horror has to find out that he cannot move either of his legs, or his torso for that matter.

There is no way to keep the panic at bay now. He sees the door moving – why are they not using magic to get rid of the barricade?? – and then, finally, the gap is wide enough for a human to fit through.

Joe’s head is still hidden beneath the newspapers, but through a small slit he can see who has made it through the door. At first glance the person who slides into the room looks a hell lot like one of them warlocks who have been chasing him so many times now, wearing dark robes, but then he realizes that their face is hidden by the shadow of a hood instead of a silver mask and that the colour of the cloth is a dark blue, not black.

Then… Joe sees the snake around the neck of the human, hissing excitedly, and pales.

Only _he_ would carry a snake like that, and only he is able to talk to them. Though – why would _he_ hide his face? _He_ has never come in disguise, always proud to show himself.

Joe forgets all those thoughts when he sees the person make straight for his hideout. He stays as still as possible – which is not too hard, considering that more than half of his body seems to be paralyzed – and prays (not to _him_ of course, but to the good old catholic god his parents had believed in so strongly) for the warlock not to see him beneath his newspapers, but of course it is in vain and then--

The papers are being lifted away and he is staring into the greenest eyes he has ever seen.

A calming smile on thin lips tears his gaze away from those hypnotizing emerald orbs and brings him back into his current situation, which looks pretty bad. Really.

Caught somewhere between panic and astonishment he listens as the person, the voice revealing him to be male, shouts something – had that been _Latin_?? – and then kneels down, only to lift him up.

Pain flares through his right leg when it is moved and he hisses. The man gives him an apologizing look. “I’m afraid I can’t do anything about that here. You’ll have to wait until I’ve gotten you to a healer.” With that he carries Joe towards the window and heaves him towards the opening. On the outside hands are already waiting for him, taking his feet – he cannot stifle a low cry – and pulling him out of the cellar. When they have managed to get him out the man vanishes towards the barricaded door, only to turn up next to him a few seconds later.

“We’re gonna get you out of here,” the man – he seems to be pretty young – promises. “I know, you have been taught never to trust a wizard, but we’re trying to help you. So please, try to stay as calm as possible. I’m aware that this is easier said than done, but the less you move, the easier this is going to be.”

“I doubt that he could move even if he wanted to,” a dark, mocking voice barges in. “He’s paralyzed.”

“Well, thank you,” the green eyes are flaring angrily. “I’m just trying to make it easier for him!”

The other one – Joe manages to find pitch black depths underneath one of the at least ten dark blue hoods – rolls his eyes, looking impatient. “We’re what he’s been chased by. Do you really think he’s going to trust you?” He shakes his head, muttering something that sounds an awful lot like “fleeceable idiot, always trying to save the world”.

The man with the green eyes is clenching his teeth and returning nothing further. “Are we ready?” he asks and in the distance Joe can hear an explosion.

Immediately all those in blue cloaks – the others are being carried, like him, are they also muggles? – stiffen, alert eyes scanning their surroundings. More than one of them looks worried. “Right. Fawkes!” Before he can wonder what is going to happen next around them flames flare up and then everything is hot and black and he feels like being dissolved into particles.

 

He only realizes that he had closed his eyes when he opens them again, staring at the white walls of what seems to be a hospital. How have they gotten here? Had they not been burning mere seconds ago? This cannot have been apparition, or portkey, he has been told what those feel like!

Joe is being put down, onto a bed, and his carrier yells “ _Medicus!_ ” across the room.

A man wearing dark fawn robes hurries towards them, wand drawn. Joe flinches, trying to shy away, but there is a firm hand on his shoulder. Looking up he stares into those strange green eyes. “Don’t. He‘s here to help you.” His voice is soft but somewhat strangled.

“Who… are you?” Joe finally manages to, dares to, ask.

The smile is back. “Call my Ry,” he answers. Then he turns towards the other warlock, who is now muttering under his breath, his wand pointing at Joe’s right leg. “ _Quid est?_ ” Joe realizes that the pain in his wrists and shoulder is gone like it never had been there.

“ _Nescio adhoc,_ ” the taller man answers. “ _Debeo quaerere Severum._ ” With that he leaves.

Ry sigs. “Looks like you got yourself something rare. Severus is our expert in dark curses. When the healers have to ask him for advice it means you probably had an encounter with someone from the Inner Circle.”

Joe freezes - of course he knows about the Inner Circle, about those warlock closest to _him_ \- but does not have time to ponder this for the healer returns, the warlock with the pitch black eyes in tow. Severus, he must be then, and Ry exchange a glance Joe cannot understand and then another wand is pointed at his hurting leg.

“Which colour was the curse?” the warlock asks, his voice not as mocking as before, but most definitely as dark.

Joe flinches. “I’m… I’m not sure,” he stutters. “There were lots of them flying around, but I think it was a dark… yellow?” His voice is too thin, to high-pitched. Too scared.

Severus nods. “ _Sucus,_ ” is all he says, before he leaves.

Ry smiles. “Looks like he figured it out. He’s gonna go get you the right potion,” he explains and then moves to close the curtains around the bed. When they have gone all the way round suddenly every noise from outside is gone. The healer has left as well. “Tell me something about yourself,” Ry requests. “Who are you? Why were you running? Is there anyone you left we should try to get out?”

Joe freezes. “I’m… My name is Jonathan Harper,” he slowly says, figuring that they can find out anyway if they really want to. “Joe. I… when this… all began, I had just taken up studying. I was… rather lucky, I guess. When the slaving started I was assigned to work in a gardening camp, growing the trees for your… wands. It was okay, compared to others, but I didn’t know that back then… I ran. Together with two others. When we found out what was going on outside our camp… we were shocked. We looked for our families, but all of them were gone.” He gulps heavily, remembering returning to the house he had grown up in and finding it occupied by a warlock family. “We… didn’t turn ourselves in. We lived on the street, finding a new hideout every night.”

He looks up and directly into those green orbs that seem to be piercing him. There is something strange in Ry’s face, something impatient and almost excited.

Joes shivers, but continues. “It went well for a couple of months, but then one of us just disappeared. Zach. He had left trying to get us something to eat and he never came back.” No, he is not going to cry. “It was just two of us then, but yesterday…” He gulps. Fights the tears.

Ry’s hand is on his shoulder again, heavy, but not retaining this time. Calming.

“They found us, and caught him. He was faster than me, but some spell hit him. He told me to run, and that’s what I did, but… I could hear his cries for a long time.” He can still hear them if he is honest.

Ry seems to be close to fidgeting. “Tell me,” he says, his voice excited, “what was his name?”

Joe shakes his head, does not understand why Ry wants to know, but answers anyway. “Andy,” he whispers. “His name is… was… Andy.”

Ry smiles and makes for the curtains, draws them open a gap. Suddenly the noise is back. “ _Accerse Zacchariam!_ " he calls, and then opens the curtains further to let Severus in.

The man seems to be seething. “Tell me, saviour, why exactly did you have to lock me out?”

Suddenly Ry’s eyes are angry, so incredibly angry. “Because this was not your business, nor will it ever be. Now give me the potion and go bother someone else!”

Severus looks daggers at him but shoves the vial he is carrying into Ry’s hand and leaves.

The warlock’s smile is strained. _Very_ strained. “We hate each other,” he explains tautly. “Just because you’re on the same side… doesn’t mean you have to get along.” His eyes are burning and Joe realizes that there has to be something more, but he doubts that it is his business.

Ry sighs and hands him the vial. “Drink it. Please. It’s going to taste really bad, but it’ll help.”

Joe stares at the viscous liquid which seems to have the same colour as the curse that had hit him. He hesitates for a second but then decides that, had they wanted to kill him, they would have done so already – and they had healed his other injuries. Besides, if they really should wish to see him dead they would find another way, or make him drink it. Thus he forces himself to swallow the potion that really tastes terrible. He wonders how long it will take for the strange magical medicine to work when someone rushes towards his bed, closing the curtain behind him.

“ _Quid?_ ”

Joe freezes, he knows this voice. Almost not daring to do so he raises his head, stares at the newcomer. “Zach?”

The man, who is wearing red robes, whips around and gapes at him. “Joe?” he asks disbelievingly.

Ry is beaming. “Ha! I knew he was your Joe, Zach!” he grins.

Zach chuckles softly. “I guess you did,” he agrees and his fingers find Joe’s, curling around each other like they always had. Even grown men need some comfort in times like these. “Where’s Andy?”

Joe freezes. “They… got him. We were running, and he… was hit. I… I couldn’t help him…”

“I’m glad you made it out!” Zach says honestly. “I… I had thought I had lost you both when Ry had found me and taken me here. It took some time to heal me and when I came to those venues that weren’t too dangerous… you didn’t come. You must have changed them, of course, for your safety, but still… I thought you were dead.” His smile is bright although there are tears in his eyes.

Joe realizes he probably looks the same. He has lost Andy, but he has gotten Zach back. “What… happened to you?”

“They caught me, and tortured me,” the blond man answers crisply. “Believe me, you don’t want any details. I was… kept in the cells of Lestrange Manor. Ry here found me when they were… cleaning the Manor. Freeing all the prisoners and blowing up the house, that is,” he explains, his smile strained. “They do that when they have the chance to do so… when they know for sure that the owners will be gone long enough and Voldemort is occupied.”

Joe freezes. “You… you said _his_ name,” he whispers, frightened.

Ry smiles calmingly. “We’re not in England,” he says. “His spell doesn’t work here. He won’t find us.”

The young muggle relaxes a little.

“How did you manage to escape?” Zach asks. “Ry must have found you in a hideout. If they were chasing you – how did you get away?”

“They blew up the wall next to me,” he murmurs. “With a curse. That… erased my tracks?” However that works. He just knows that it does, from experience.

Ry nods. “That explains it,” he says. Joe looks at him questioningly. The warlock smiles. “You must know, the way they find you even when you’re running – it’s a spell. They have activated it all over England and it shows them everything that has been touched by something magical. They use it, despite the fact that it shows them their biggest mistake: Muggles also have magic in them. Of course the sign is weaker than if it is made by a wizard or witch, but it is still strong enough to be seen. So, if you’re running – you’re leaving magical footprints and the spell shows them. You surely can imagine that magic itself leaves the strongest signs. It is why we can’t use magic when we go into Britain, because they would find us immediately. We are strong, but we don’t have a chance against the lot of them. Thus we gotta stay under the radar, so to speak.”

Joe only nods, a little overwhelmed.

Zach rolls his eyes. “You always have to keep talking,” he teases.

Ry sticks his tongue out. “What’s wrong with wanting someone to understand?” Despite his grin the sadness in his voice is clearly audible.

“Nothing,” Zach says softly. “Nothing.”

Joe looks away when he sees Ry’s fingers cling to the metal frame of the bed.

The warlock gulps and pulls himself together. He smiles at Joe. “What do you want to do now?” he asks. “You should be fully healed by tomorrow morning, you can do whatever you want. We can bring you wherever you would like to go, there’s programs for the integration of muggle refugees all around the world. I can strongly recommend Canada, France and Russia. They also get you a proper memory blotter if you should want one. You can lead a completely normal muggle life and forget everything that has happened to you in Britain. Which is also the only place I can’t let you go. You won’t be returning there, not after so many of us risked our lives to get you out.” He does seem to be uncomfortable with using this blackmail.

Joe stares at him. “Why would I want to go back?”

Zach smiles, relieved. “Because quite a lot do not want to leave their homeland, despite everything that has happened,” he explains.

Well… he does understand that. Somehow. “How… how could I leads a completely normal life?” he asks, confused. “All the world must know about you lots now?”

“No.” Zach shakes his head. “The other magical governments were quick enough to prevent the spreading of this information. That, and quite a lot of memory changing spells. England has been sealed off completely.”

“So that’s why none of the others came to help us,” Joe realizes. He is feeling sick.

“Wrong,” Ry corrects him. “The others are helping you. Who do you think is providing the healers and ingredients for your potion? The problem is that we can’t attack Voldemort right out. He would throw all his followers against us and make them inferi if they died.” Joe shudders. He knows what inferi are by now, everyone – at least in England – does. “They would basically be immortal, while our men would be falling one by one. We refuse using black magic like him, which gives us a heavy disadvantage. Thus, we’re trying to get as many as you as possible out of there, because the attack… won’t be pretty. We’ll have to do something even he cannot survive, and we will have to do it to everyone in Britain at the same time or we won’t be able to get to him.”

Joe shivers. “What… are you planning to do?”

Ry and Zach exchange a glance.

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you just like that. First I have to know what you’re going to do. You’re one of the few muggles who can stay here, in our headquarter, if you want to, after all you’ve got… family here.”

Joe stares at Zach and blushes heavily. Of course he remembers kisses exchanged in the dark, sweet words whispered after particularly cruel days and the heat of two bodies next to his. Yes, Andy, Zach and him had been more than just partners in crime, more than just helping each other out in this seemingly hopeless situation. They had given each other hope and shared so much more than just a hideout. Everything had stopped after Zach had vanished, though, both Andy and him too hurt to continue their relationship without the third. Now…

“You said you’d never tell anyone,” he whispers.

Zach blushes, gulping and turning his head away.

Ry smiles softly. “He didn’t,” he says. “I found out anyway. I’m good at that… but he also knows things about me I never wanted anyone to know.”

Joe takes a deep breath, clams himself down. His fingers are still entwined with Zach’s, and he would not want it any other way.

“It’s only Voldemort who’s so conservative,” Ry tries to reassure him. “Usually our world is very open to any kind of relationship. Actually by now there are potions that make it possible to have children for gay couples. So don’t be afraid that you will be punished for loving two men here. Nobody should be punished for whom they love.” He looks pained.  
Zach squeezes his shoulder with his free hand and changes the topic.

“So… where do you want to go now?” His eyes are pleading him to stay, but he does not say anything.

Joe smiles. “I just got you back. Don’t think I’m going anywhere you aren’t.”

He receives a beaming smile for that.

“I’ll organize everything,” Ry promises. “Do you want me to leave you alone?”

“In a minute,” Joe answers, frowning. “Will you tell me now what your plan for England is?”

The warlock sighs. “Since you’re going to stay here you’ll have to swear the oath anyway… I guess I can tell you. We’re still looking for another solution, but everything else would involve black magic, so… it’s probably going to be an atomic bomb. It’s our last way out, but it looks like we’ll have to use it. We’re currently advancing it magically and trying to connect it, somehow, to the Dark Mark. We still don’t know if it’s going to be enough to get rid of Voldemort” Joe flinches “but I guess that’ll be my problem then.”

Confused, Joe shakes his head. “Your problem? Why?”

Ry smiles grimly. “Because he’s my destiny.” With that he shakes his head, his dark hair uncovering the lightening scar on his forehead. Then he is gone, closing the curtain and effectively locking himself out.

Joe has frozen. “He’s… Harry Potter?”

Zach smiles wearily. “Aye.”

“So… Harry Potter really is still alive. And he’s going to defeat _him_.” _He_ had done his best to keep the existence of his arch enemy from the muggles, wanting to be thought invincible, but there had always been rumours about the one person who could save them, were they still alive. Just no one knew if they were.

“He’s going to do his best, and I wish he wouldn’t.” Suddenly all will to fight seems to have left Zach’s body. “He… we hated each other in school, but now? He’s my best friend. My only friend. I don’t want to lose him, but I know that he thinks it is his job to defeat Voldemort. It’s also probably what’s going to kill him. I just wish… I wish I could stop him.”

Joe looks at his crestfallen beloved. “I’m sorry,” he says, quietly. “But… what did you mean with ‘you hated each other in school’? And why are you wearing robes? Or rather – why didn’t you tell us? We wouldn’t have let you go get anything!”

Zach does not look at him. “I can take care of myself.”

“Of course you can! But we always knew that while we could not fight the warlocks, we had a fair chance of evading them. However, all those who are magical… they never get away.”

The blonde’s smile is sad. “I was afraid you’d hate me,” he admits. “I had been living as a muggle for quite some time at that point, never using any magic. Now I know that it only prevented me from being found right away. However, between you muggles I was still sticking out like a blue cow.” His expression is grim.

Joe lifts his free hand, lets his finger ghost over those features he knows so well. “I’m glad Ry found me,” he whispers, changing the topic.

“Me too,” Zach answers and then his lips are on Joe’s, kissing him feverishly. Joe loses himself in the kiss, loses himself to those lips he had thought he would never feel again. The fingers of Zach’s free hand are buried in his dark locks while Joe himself is clinging to his beloved’s nape, not wanting to let go of him ever again. When they break apart he wants to turn his head, wants to find those lips that should already be waiting to be kissed as well- … but they are not, and they never will be again.

He stifles a sob and feels the grip to his hair tighten. This is wrong, without Andy being here – but Joe knows, this is not going to end the same way it had when Zach had vanished. They may be one man short now, and they will always miss him, but the blonde is not going to let him waste the love that is between them.

“How about,” he whispers, “you tell me about your childhood? After all you attended school together with _Harry Potter_ …”

 

Joe sighs. He is pretty good at physics – had been studying them, after all, when _he_ had come to power – so he has been assigned to the nuke-team. He does not like it, but he knows they are right. There is not really much else he can do.

He has been explained everything, just like the other few muggles living here. Jane Granger is one of them and they have become quick friends. The woman has lost her daughter, a girl who had been very close to Ry, to _him_ , along with her husband. “I was a dentist,” she had explained. “Now I work as a nurse. I cannot do the diagnose spells, but I can feed unwilling patients potions and I can calm down other muggles who are sent here. It feels good. To be able to do something, I mean. I know it’s not much, but, despite the fact that I’m not magical – I’m working against _him_ , even if not directly.”

It is probably the reason Joe has agreed to work with the nuke-team, he realizes. As muggles they have been taught to fear atomic bombs, but it really seems to be their only way out. That is, as long as the latest project does not work out. Zach is on one of the experimental teams – that is what the red robes show – and this idea is his baby. They want to use the concept of the atomic cascade for a new ritual. It would be easier to connect to the Dark Mark, and they would not ruin nature as well.

Joe stares at the screaming girl.

He had been in the Healing Halls, meeting Jane for a cup of tea, when one of the blue teams had come back. More precisely Ry’s team. Those clad in dark blue robes are those actively doing something, those daring to go back into England, to destroy some of the houses, free prisoners and get as many muggles as possible out. It is the riskiest job, and the one with the most powerful and bravest wizards on it. By now Joe has met most of Ry’s team, for they seem to be wherever their leader is, and most often in the Healing Halls. He absolutely dislikes Severus but has gotten to like Neville, a soft soul, and an old but very agile Indian witch named Jabeen. Well, and Remus of course. The wizard may be a werewolf, which had scared him at first, but it seems impossible not to like the man.

He shakes his head, looks at the healers hasting across the huge room. Most of the wizards and witches in the dark fawn robes are Frenchmen, the country apparently has the best academy. He has met Fleur, a charming young healer, who very often works with Ry’s patients.

Joe covers his ears, tries to blank out the agonizing screams of the young girl whose legs are currently made grow back. It does not seem to be what hurts her so much, though, for three curse breakers from the research department clad in light blue robes seem to be tearing something black and ugly from her chest. The dark magic is clinging to the girl, however, and giving the wizards a hard time.

His eyes wander from Ry, who is talking to the girl, holding her hands, to Severus and Remus who are working hand in hand, pressing a struggling muggle against the mattress in order to make it possible for the healers to do their job. Remus. He sighs.

“Hey.” He feels a soft kiss being planted behind his ear and an arm being slung around his hips. “What are you pondering?”

Joe leans against the slightly taller body behind his, enjoys being held. “The werew- … Remus,” he finally says.

“What about him?”

“I… have seen the way Ry is looking at him.”

“You have?” Zach’s voice is filled with astonishment. “You are only the second person to do so,” he explains.

“So? Ry… is in love with Remus?”

“He loves him, and has done so for quite some time."

“But… they aren’t together. Remus is with Severus. So… Remus doesn’t…”

“… like Ry back? Aye. I doubt he even knows that Ry doesn’t feel for him like for a father, but a lover. It makes him sad that Ry and Severus hate each other so intensely, but, well… Severus has never given Ry any reason to forgive him everything he has done to him during school, and that he is with the man he loves… I doubt that it makes anything easier.”

Joe gulps. “I… it’s just… there’s no one I’d want to see happy as much as Ry. He’s gone through so much… and now he’s also crossed in love.”

Zach is quiet for a minute and when he answers his voice is thick, heavy with tears. “I know. I… It’ll probably be why Ry will sacrifice himself in the end.”

Joe thinks his heart stops. “He…”

“He doesn’t want to survive,” Zach agrees quietly. “He has never told anyone, but I know him too well not to see it. He would probably already have killed himself, were he not so convinced that getting rid of Voldemort is his job. But I’m afraid when it’s done, there’ll be nothing to hold him.”

Joe fights back the tears. “How is your ritual coming?” he asks, trying not to think of losing Ry. Because this is war and you lose people every day – what use would it be tying someone who wants to be dead to life? He knows he would miss him, who has already become a dear friend, but he does not want his friends to suffer.

 

Joe is staring at the huge monitor. It shows a countdown and they have already reached the last ten seconds. Ry’s team is ready to go, already standing in the correct distances for the candles to be placed. When the number 0 flares up Fakes is there, taking them away, and the camera installed to Ry’s robe shows them arriving in the empty Diagon Alley as planned, placing the burning candles in a perfect pentagram, and being teleported back to France.

Another countdown comes up, and Zach starts to fidget. They still have almost a minute left until the ritual will be activated, but the ten wizards and witches in dark blue robes are already doing their job: pushing their magic into small pebbles connected to the pentagram. And thus to the Dark Mark.

He sees the team press more and more of what makes them who they are into the magical cascade. The last ten seconds are marked with a sound and the wizards are giving everything now. Two break down and step back, laying their pebbles into a stone bowl. In the last three seconds only Severus, Remus and Ry are still going, the latter gleaming in a soft green light.

He is the last one to let his pebble fall into the bowl. He also activates the runes carved into the stone with another push of magic when the 0 comes up.

The bowl glows sickly blue and seems to implode, before it releases all its energy into the pentagram with a loud _boom_.

Zach is jumping from one leg to the other.

They do not have cameras in Britain, but if everything is going according to plan the pentagram should be inducing the cascade now, every bit of magic producing more and more energy, and when it is overloaded send it along the connections to the Dark Mark to every wizard and witch in Britain and, depending on the power of the Mark, either knock out or kill them.

Severus is hissing. His Mark has been taken off the connection – impressive spell work by an Australian arithmancer, as Zach had said – but it seems to burn quite painfully.

After ten minutes there is a slight uproar. If everything has worked, it will be over already. The other active teams want to come into the room, to assemble and be taken into Britain by Fawkes, just like they had agreed, but Ry keeps them from coming in.

“I will go,” he says, his voice strong.

Joe feels Zach falter. Harry is speaking English, but he guesses there is a translation spell behind it. There is a reason everyone is speaking Latin here, for it is a language the wizards and witches all know.

“But you just pushed so much of your magic into the ritual,” Remus protests. “It’s too dangerous!”

Ry’s eyes grow hard. “You are right,” he says. “It’s too dangerous. Which is why I’ll be going, and you will be staying here. In safety. Voldemort is my destiny.”

“But-” the werewolf is interrupted again.

“No buts. If I should not manage to take him down I will have powered him out a little, and you will know his weaknesses. I’m going to leave the camera on, you’ll know when to attack. Fawkes!”

Joe knows they have no choice now. The phoenix answers to Harry Potter and Harry Potter alone. If he wants to be taken down there with no one else coming along – it is going to happen that way. The young muggle watches as the flames take his friend’s body away, back to England, and he reaches for Zach’s hand, squeezes the older one’s cold fingers. They both know already what is going to happen:

“He won’t come back. I just wish he would have given us the chance to say goodbye.”

The others around them – a huge crowd is staring at the screen – begin to whisper when a picture comes up, showing _his_ furious face, distorted into an ugly grimace.

Joe rears backwards, purely on instinct, and passively recognizes the other present muggles doing the same. It is only Zach’s hand linked with his that prevents him from running. He decides to look around, he cannot look at him, and sees the way the others are staring at the screen. There are a lot of scared faces, many angry ones, but most of them are filled with pure, raging hatred.

He never wants to see Zach look like that ever again.

Suddenly there is an outcry and he has to look back. He sees a knife flying through the air, hitting _him_ straight where his heart would have been, but at the same time a green curse is buzzing towards the direction of the camera.

Joe forgets to breathe. For a second he hopes, he _prays_ \--

But then there is a light concussion in the image and it turns upwards, showing the dark rainclouds over England.

Now Joe _cannot_ breathe any longer.

 

 

Severus had always known that to Remus, he had been only second. Maybe it had been why he had hated Harry Potter so much – that even the one person he loved and who loved him back had loved Potter even more.

Now he wishes he would have made his werewolf act on his emotions, despite the marauder’s fears, instead of selfishly telling him that he was too old and Potter only thought of him as a father. He looks into empty golden orbs, eyes that had broken when the Golden Boy had fallen, and he feels sick every time he hears Remus tell him that he loves him.

Because he knows it is true.

He knows that Remus would have done, still would do, anything for him. Even die.

But he also knows that there had been someone Remus had loved even more, so much more, and part of the werewolf had died together with Ry. And he knows that Potter had reciprocated his beloved’s feelings.

Had he been selfless, just for once in his life – he could have made at least two people happy instead of ruining three men’s lives.

He could have given his Remus the person he had been living for, instead of the one he would have died for.

But now it is too late.


End file.
